


my soul to keep

by withoutwords



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Depression, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Internalised Homophobia, M/M, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 09:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19292905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withoutwords/pseuds/withoutwords
Summary: “You can pretend to hate me all you want, mate,” Ben says cockily, leaning back and folding his arms. “But I’m not the problem here. You are. You hate yourself.”Callum doesn't bother to argue.He leaves because he knows he can't.





	my soul to keep

**Author's Note:**

> welp. they got me. im not really familiar with the show - only seen bits and pieces - so please forgive me for any glaring mistakes and by all means let me know.
> 
> this is a somewhat sad one, despite the happy ending; hopefully next time it will be a little cheerier. thanks so much - hope you enjoy!

**denial**

It’s easy to say, _I’m not like you_ , to force it down Ben’s throat and make him listen. It’s not so hard to believe, either - _I’m not like you_ \- Ben’s got a mean streak about as long as Main Street and more enemies than he can count.

Callum’s not like that.

People always tell him: you’re a good lad, such a nice boy. People like him, and he wants to keep it that way. He wants it all to mean something. The new job, and Whit, and the life they planned together; he didn’t come this far to lose it all.

And for what? Drunken handjobs in a manky old park, just the moon and God himself to see it?

No. Callum’s not like that.

“The lady doth protest too much,” Ben teases, still not listening.

Callum’s knuckles are white where they’re clenched around his glass, the pair of them lucky that The Vic is such a public place. “You’re a total prick, you know that? Just leave it, yeah?”

“Now, now, let’s not talk about my prick.”

“Shut up.”

“I just wanted to say hello,” Ben lies, a smirk at the corner of his mouth. His bottom lip is mostly healed, the skin there fresh and pink again, and Callum has to look away. Has to force himself.

“Do one, alright? I can’t - every time I see your face…”

“What? You think about it pressed to yours? No kidding, me too.”

“No,” Callum grinds out. “I think about how I hurt Whit, and how I let myself get tricked by such a… such a…”

Ben’s expression turns a little darker. The leather of his jacket creaks as he leans forward, a familiar smell wafting over. “What? Go on. Say it. Only, I gave you a chance to show me how you really feel the other night, didn’t I? And you _kissed_ me.”

Callum stands up so fast his chair makes an awful noise behind him. A few people look over. “Don’t,” he says, knowing that any threats he makes are useless.

“You can pretend to hate me all you want, mate,” Ben says cockily, leaning back and folding his arms. “But I’m not the problem here. _You_ are. You hate _yourself_.”

Callum doesn't bother to argue.

He leaves because he knows he can't.

  
**anger**

Callum did alright as a kid. Their parents worked hard, and Stuart wasn’t there, and Callum made a few friends that had his back if he needed. It was good, being no one. Having no consequences.

It’s the growing up that did it. It was being a brother, and a soldier, and a dunce. It was getting into mess after mess, until he finally had to come to the surface for air. Until people suddenly took notice.

Now he’s here with the Carters, and Whit, in this place.

Now he’s Callum Highway and he has to work out who that is.

So he runs. Early in the morning, then again after work - before stopping at the gym to do pull ups and crunches, and box until his knuckles are raw from the bag. He pushes, and pushes, as if maybe it’ll help. As if the knot of rage will snap and go away.

“Alright?” Mick asks him when they bump into each other in the street, Callum stopped with a stitch in his side.

“Yeah, yeah just.” Callum coughs. “Catching my breath.”

“You’re getting serious about this stuff, yeah.” Mick motions to his sweaty clothes. “Exercising an’ all that.”

“Just trying to keep fit.”

“Well, remember to take a break too, no good to Whit if ya dead.”

Callum forces out a laugh, giving Mick a gentle elbow before taking off again. He knows Mick’s eyes are on him - Linda’s, Whit’s, probably Jay now that he’s relying on Callum. He knows that he matters, that everything matters. He knows he’s doing it all wrong.

He runs.

  
**bargaining**

  
Liar. Ben had told him, and he’d already known it, but here it is in front of him. Liar. He’s lied to the doctor, and the cops and his fiance. He’s lied to his head, and his body, and his heart. Lie, after lie, after lie - until it mostly gets easy.

Until you’re not really sure what’s the truth.

“This is the last time,” he says to the floor, his head buried in his hands. Ben’s sprawled naked in the bed behind him, and Callum can’t turn around for fear of knowing.

He said this wouldn’t happen again. He lied.

“Sure,” Ben says, and Callum’s surprised to hear there’s nothing sharp in his voice. He’s not about to cut him open with one of his little jibes.

“This is the last time, right? We’re done?”

“If you say so.”

“I just … I needed to know. That’s all. And now … now you’ve had your fun, it’s done. We’re done.”

“Callum…”

Callum’s feet are on the floor. It could be so easy to stand up, get dressed, and walk out the door. It could be so easy to go home to Whit and close the door on whatever this was. He’s done it, he knows what it’s like, they’re finished.

“That was lovely, if you wanna know,” Ben says softly, Callum’s chest seizing at the words. He sighs.

“Don’t.”

“I know what you think of me. I know you think I’m cheap. But I didn’t keep finding you just for fun, Callum. I like ya. I like this.”

“Please. Don’t.”

Callum hears the sheets rustle as Ben moves closer, his head falling back onto clenched hands. His breath is short and sharp when he feels Ben’s gentle touch on his back, his hand coasting slowly up his spine to his back.

“Callum.” Callum finally looks up, and turns his head, and Ben’s right there. No truths or lies just there. Just real. “It’s just between you and me.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

When Ben kisses him, Callum's hands and shoulders and neck relax and he leans into it, opens his mouth for it. It’s slow and heady and he’s suddenly so pliable, letting Ben push him back onto the bed and straddle his hips.

“Just you and me.”

 

**depression**

  
Callum does get a bit of pain. In his hip and his leg and sometimes in his knees (if he’s been jogging on colder mornings without proper clothes on). He gets a bit of pain, and most of it where he can’t find it - when he wakes up in cold sweats, or he hears loud noises, or a kid points a toy gun at him and laughs.

It’s the pain he can’t name that’s the worst.

It hangs around. It has for a while. When Stuart showed up. When he upset Whit. When he met Ben in a park in the middle of the night and became more of himself than he’d ever been.

It hurt.

“You’re quiet,” Whit says over the breakfast table, a soft hand on his, a soft look to match.

“Yeah.” Callum shakes his head. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m just worried.”

“Yeah, thanks. I - I don’t know. I’m having one of those days.”

She touches his forehead to check for fever, making him smile despite himself. He wishes he could be more for her. He knows she’s never gotten anything she deserves. “You’re not getting sick, are ya?”

“I don’t know. Could be.”

“Well why don’t you call Jay? I’ve gotta get to The Vic but I’ll only be a few hours, I can come back and take care of ya.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“No, but I want to. Now go on, let Jay know you won’t be down, and get back into bed, alright?”

“Thanks.”

Callum only bothers to send Jay a text, before standing in the shower for so long his fingers crinkle up. He doesn’t towel off, just wraps it around himself, before lying down all and staring at the wall. His brain has gone into overdrive now - he can’t stop to think about what he’s thinking about.

“Callum.”

When Ben gets there, Callum’s got no idea how long it’s been. He sits up hurriedly and wipes at his eyes and suddenly feels so stupid. “Why are you here?”

“Jay said you were sick. Thought it was weird you never called him.”

Ben sits at the edge of the bed as Callum fixes up his towel. It seems pointless, really, it’s not like he hasn’t seen it all. “You need proof or somethin’?”

“No. Just needed to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You look like you’re turning blue. Want me to get ya some clothes?”

Callum huffs at him, not bothering with the towel as he gets up to throw on some track pants and a shirt. Five minutes ago he felt empty, and now it’s all suddenly overflowing - he can’t have Ben here, he can’t deal with Ben, he can’t…

“I can’t do this anymore,” he cries, collapsing onto the bed, sitting but curling up on himself, like a little baby not ready to face the world. “I can’t keep hurting Whit, I can’t keep lying to everyone, I can’t…”

Ben hushes him, and wraps his arms around him, and lets Callum cry on his shoulder.

It hurts. It’s going to hurt for a while.

Ben knows this pain. Ben helps.

  
**acceptance**

  
Callum remembers a neighbour they had a long time ago, back home. Mr. Hill, sort of old, sort of lonely - his family never visited, and he never went out. Callum remembers the things his dad and brother used to say; the words and names they used to call him that stuck with Callum until he was old enough to know what they meant.

He never found out if it was true.

He supposes it was.

Callum remembers a lot of that sort of stuff. As a kid, as a teen, hell right up until the other day when he went into town and heard a bunch of drunk twats giving each other a hard time. It stuck with him years ago, it sticks with him now, and he’s starting to come to terms with why.

He’s gay. He was gay back then, he’ll be gay tomorrow, and he’s ready to face it. He’s a sweet lad and a nice boy and a gay man and that’s okay - all of it is okay.

“Just you now, then?” Ben asks when he comes around, standing in the middle of the kitchen as if he’s never seen the place before.

“Yeah. Was thinking I might get a fish.”

“Just one?”

Callum shrugs. “We’ll see.”

Ben gives him that smile. Callum knows not many people get to see it. Soft and honest and caring. Ben’s got a dark past, and is probably heading to a questionable future - but he’s not one thing. He’s not just someone’s son, or someone’s father, or a notch on a random guy’s bedpost.

He’s Callum’s friend, maybe more, and Callum wants to get to know him better.

“Thank you,” he hears himself say, taking a few cautious steps to join Ben in the kitchen. Ben pulls a face, and it’s the most humble Callum’s seen him.

“What for?”

“Just … being here.”

“It’s where I want to be.”

“I know.” Callum reaches out to grab at Ben’s sweater, pulling him a little closer in. “Thank you. You were a complete bastard about it, but you were right. I had to let Whit get on with her life. I have to get on with mine.”

“You told her?”

“About me. Not about you.”

Ben just gives him a little nod, reaching for his hips, inching nearer. “Okay.”

“She was gutted. It was awful."

"It was always gonna be."

"Yeah." Callum wipes at his eyes. "But she was good to me. Promised not to say anything.”

“That’s good. It’s up to you what to do next.”

Right now, Callum knows what he wants to do. He wants to have Ben pressed against him, wants to kiss him until he can feel it in his toes, wants to take him to bed and stay there for as long as he possibly can. He wants to show him he’s sorry for making him think he wasn’t worth this - every time he said _I’m not like you._

They’re different in a lot of ways, in most ways really.

But they’re the same here, in each other’s arms.

“I like you,” Callum tells Ben, happy to see that smile appear.

_And I think I’m starting to like me too._

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://thefancyspin.tumblr.com)


End file.
